


Diary of a Budding Superwoman: The Story Begins

by Cliodna_Queen_Of_The_Banshee



Category: DCU, DCU (Comics), Smallville, Superman (Comics), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Female Clark Kent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-31 11:43:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15118691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cliodna_Queen_Of_The_Banshee/pseuds/Cliodna_Queen_Of_The_Banshee
Summary: Deirdre Kent starts writing in a diary.  Lex Luthor runs her over with a car the next day.Fem Clark Smallville story.  Book by book.  DC crossovers ahead.  Biggest pairings are Lex/Clark, Bruce/Clark.





	Diary of a Budding Superwoman: The Story Begins

Chapter One: Angel's Introduction

October --

High school is supposed to be the time when every girl starts writing in a diary, so I’m going to start writing in one myself. This is for my eyes only - it starts in my freshman year and continues throughout high school, and I will be admitting things in this diary that I can’t admit anywhere else.

My name is Deirdre Kent. It’s a bit of a city preppy name, after a childhood friend of my mother’s. She grew up in the mildly wealthy part of Metropolis City, so that explains the naturally preppy part of the name. But Deirdre is also an old-fashioned country enough name to fit into Smallville, Kansas.

And that’s where I’ve grown up. In my father’s home, where my mother moved to. On a small family farm in the tiny, dot on the map town of Smallville, Kansas.

I have black hair and blue eyes. I’m tiny and petite. I wear lots of hipster fashion: either long hair or hair tied up at the top of my head, converse and beanies, big sweaters and leggings, slim jeans, denim vests and jackets. I wear big, square glasses that my grandfather bought for me years ago.

Some description of what I’m like as a person, first off.

My Mom was my role model growing up. Like her, I tend more toward being feminine and modest, more intuitive and faith based, polite and understanding, and intellectual. I’m a good cook like her, quiet like her, compassionate and people oriented like her.

My role model during my middle school years, however, was my best friend Chloe. Like Chloe, I’m sharp-eyed and intelligent - though it isn’t obvious on the surface, I look away from people a lot and I don’t emote very much. In my own quiet, stoical way, I’m also as opinionated as she is. I have a quiet but sarcastic and quirky sense of humor that erupts at surprising moments. My temper also erupts at surprising moments, when I feel comfortable with someone. I’m ambitious and I love cities.

A basic rule: The closer I feel to someone, the more openly emotional I am around them.

I have been told I have the quiet, calm gift of making other people feel safe.

Now onto the bad stuff. I’m late to everything and my room is a constant, absent-minded mess. I’m shy and daydreamy. Though I am ambitious, I don’t know for what yet - I don’t know what I want to do with all that ambition inside me. Because of this, and because of my ethical beliefs, I particularly hate my grandfather harping on me to become a lawyer.

I feel trapped in Smallville. I have big morals in a world that doesn’t always value that - and I can be extremely argumentative and morally opinionated.

I don’t like the way my body looks. I wish I were taller and slimmer, like a model. So I insist on only eating the healthiest foods, in addition to my food ethics beliefs. Healthy foods, smoothies, that kind of a thing. Mom says no teenage girl is ever truly happy with her own body, which I think is a way of trying to discourage me from my health kick. 

I will admit here in my diary that despite all this, my big weakness is fancy coffees. And I do smoke despite my parents and grandfather hating it. So I am absurdly healthy in some ways and absurdly unhealthy in others. Just don’t expect me to admit that to them.

I wish I had a car for Metropolis City concerts, but my family doesn’t have the money. I wish I had the self confidence to dress darker and more punk. Goth models are my secret role models, but I don’t really look anything like them.

I know from my intellectual studies with my mother that Native Americans like the local tribe have myths about people with powers coming down from the stars throughout history. This is of special interest to me, because though I’m adopted, I was born with extraordinary powers of supernatural speed, strength, and intelligence and I don’t know where they came from. My family, grandfather included, is super overprotective. I want to study Native American language and culture, particularly their ‘powerful people come from the stars’ myths, under local Native American professor Joseph Willowbrook, but my parents and grandfather are afraid I could accidentally give away too much about myself. Nobody outside my family is supposed to know I have these powers. 

So I’ve never been able to achieve the studies I would like to have. I hang around Joseph Willowbrook’s local college classrooms after his classes a lot, and I talk to him. He likes me, thinks I’m really bright. “You should come study under me anyway, I’ll take you for free,” he keeps saying, but I always tell him it’s a family thing and he frowns. I think he believes it’s a race thing, my family keeping me from studying the local Native American tribe, and I don’t know how to explain to him that it’s not.

I have a crush on Justin, the artist and comic book writer for my friend Chloe’s school paper The Torch. I sometimes write for The Torch, but that’s about the only thing we have in common. He does know who I am. I was walking behind him by accident while he was crossing a Smallville street one day and I saw him about to be run over by a car. I leapt forward and pushed him out of the way. Everyone was really impressed, but I knew in my panic to save Justin I’d revealed more of my powers than I was probably supposed to. My family was worried for a while, but nothing ever came of it.

Anyway, Justin has a crush on Chloe, who’s dating my other best friend Pete. Chloe's a sharp-tongued vintage-wearing school paper editor, Pete's a nerdy and friendly and popular football jock, and they're perfect for each other. I try to be happy for them, but so far I hate high school.

I defensively read a lot - especially when the world gets disappointing. I’m bullied at school by a cheerleader named Felice and her posse. I refuse to fall in line with them and become a cheerleader, so I fatalistically, cynically put up with the bullying. I think Felice might pick me for the female cheerleader freshman hazing ritual, which includes the victim being blind-folded with green meteor rock gauze made from rocks in the twelve years old Smallville meteor shower, taken in a car inside a cardboard box, and left naked in the girl’s locker room showers to be found the next morning. They are locked in there, with the gym clothes purposefully left outside, so that supposedly they can’t get out or get dressed.

With my powers, I doubt I’ll get hurt, but getting picked would still suck. I haven’t told my parents about this and I don’t know what to do about it. I refuse to become a cheerleader, and give in to Felice. Homecoming is approaching, and that’s the hazing deadline, and my crush Justin the artist is in love with my best friend (the one dating my other best friend) on top of everything else so I don’t know who I’m supposed to go to the dance with -

And. It’s a mess.

There’s another super-nice, preppy-person cheerleader named Lana who seems to make an extra effort to try to be nice to poor unpopular me, I think because she feels bad about Felice. I always feel ill at ease around Lana, with her perfect sweaters and her perfect green meteor rock pendant necklace and her perfect wealthy aunt, and so I just clam up when she approaches, adding I think to her pity for me, quiet nobody that I am.

I grew up a tomboy, but I’m not sure how to make my father see I’m not that way anymore. This probably seems small in comparison to my other problems, but it’s a big thing for me.

And now for my family dynamic itself. My maternal grandfather moved into our Smallville house, and out of his Metropolis City townhouse, after I arrived. He’s a former big-time lawyer and I think he’s always been disappointed that my Mom turned out to be a poor Smallville farmer housewife, so I’m pretty sure I’m his chance at a do-over. He is just as overprotective as my parents, because of my secret gifts, but he is also a strict and overly expectant man who is always nagging me to do better, to do what he did with his life, even though he knows I don’t want to. My Dad doesn’t like him and my Mom caters to him - he’s a super larger than life sort of presence. He’s the one who got me my glasses. I don’t want to be a lawyer, but I don’t know what I actually want to do in that big city of my dreams, adding to the strife and conflict. My parents fight a lot over my grandfather.

An old childhood friend, Greg Arkin, has a major unrequited crush on me. My friends have said only half-jokingly that he might have me lo-jacked. I see him mysteriously near me in places I never expect to see him, and he comes up to me talking earnestly a lot. He’s obsessed with bugs and he has glasses and face acne and very little life. I know this shouldn’t matter, but it does. I don’t know how to tell him nicely that I don’t like him that way, and so the awkwardness continues.

And now just some general facts about me.

I’m a skater girl, and I often go with my board to the local rink. I love dried wildflowers. I love stargazing, both from an old telescope and out in fields, and I practice space photography with an old-fashioned camera. I’m good in the maths and sciences and I sincerely love them. I love concerts. I love long, hot soaks in the bath at the end of a long day. Ice cream is my indulgent snack of choice, and I can eat a lot of it in spite of my supposed health obsession - I love snacking despite myself.

I’m a big supporter of LGBTQIA, I hate corporations and suits, I am pro Native American rights, and I’m an eco-supporter and an environmentalist. I’m a vegetarian who believes in organic and free-range food. I’m a health nut who also loves coffee. I love animals. I also love cities and culture from a distance - again, adding to that “trapped in Smallville” feeling.

I like anime. My birthdays are filled with pizza, loud music, movies, and friends. I love rock music, Halloween, and cutesy, quirky slippers. I’m super into sports from my Dad and I’ve been told I call out football plays in my sleep.

My denim backpack is covered with badges and patches. My notebooks are filled with poetry and doodles, and I also have doodles on my converse.

I’m a poet, and I also love books. I’m super into sci fi, I can play the guitar, and I love songwriting. I perform music locally in front of people a lot, as a rather quiet solo artist.

I love animals and I volunteer at the local animal shelter. I volunteer at a local home for the elderly and my closest friend there is Cassandra, an old woman there who has the strange power to take people’s hands and see their future. I thought it was all hokum at first, but then she accidentally touched my hand and she immediately knew that I wasn’t “normal” - she read back my own powers of supernatural speed and strength and intelligence to me, and told me that I was destined to save lives and live an absurdly long time. Oddly? Unlike the other people she’d touched, I could see the same visions she saw. It turned out later, the time she went blind and the time she gained future-seeing abilities coincided - when a flash went off near her twelve years ago in the Smallville meteor shower.

She insists my powers have to have come from that same shower, but I told her I was adopted from Metropolis shortly after that. In other words, what my parents always told me.

Anyway, since Cassandra knows what I go through and she’s a little bit quieter and more sympathetic than my tumultuous family, she talks me through lots of frustrating life things. I haven’t exactly told my family that Cassandra knows anything.

It’s a good thing this diary has a lock and I’m hiding the key.

I’m also a part-time waitress who pours coffees and takes cigarette breaks at the local diner. My grandfather thinks working is good for me, but I’m mostly doing the job to give extra money to my family. We don’t exactly have a lot - not like Felice’s family, or Lana’s, the mildly wealthy garden club variety that is the closest Smallville has to royalty. I am far lower on the totem pole than that.

I am one of the rare girls tutoring in the maths and sciences at school.

So… that’s my life. My tumultuous and poor three-generation farming family including my grandfather, my very coupley best friends, my math and science classes, the school paper, my waitressing job, my striking lack of popularity, my artsy nature, my secret unrequited crush on Justin the comic book writer - and my secrets. The secrets I don’t understand.

That’s my starting point. I start writing actual story-like, narrative entries tomorrow.

EDIT: Little did I know that tomorrow would be the second time I saved someone's life from a car wreck - and the first time someone called me "Angel."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Deirdre is an amalgamation of traits from male Clark and from other characters (mostly female) that I liked. I wanted to explore what would happen in creating a character if I worked almost solely in tiny traits, even in tiny female traits, that existed from various other characters. Then twisted them through Clark's/Deirdre's natural lens.
> 
> This will be a first person diary entries story, and it is very experimental. Care to go on this fun little journey with me and Deirdre? ;)


End file.
